Loving Him Was (Bitter)Sweet
by sebbykurt
Summary: Even when there's blood smudged across the seam of his mouth, Sebastian can't deny just how beautiful Kurt is. Vampire!AU Obvious warnings for blood.
1. Prologue

**AN**: A completely random idea that hit me after watching an episode Teen Wolf, though vampires aren't even a part of the show's plot. This is just the prologue, and it's a very short little bit of what I'm hoping to be a story that spans, at the most, to ten chapters.

Here, both Sebastian and Kurt are at Dalton, and Kurt never went to McKinely (as will become obvious the further we read). In its entirety, this story is an AU, and anything that refers back to the actual plot of the show is probably mere coincidence:)

I've tried to stray as far from the stereo-typical, Twilight-esque vampire as much as I could. Here's hoping it's good enough!

* * *

Prologue:

They only ever fuck during the daytime, in-between classes and during lunch. Never in either of their rooms, but in empty classrooms and the choir room when nobody's using it.

This never strikes Sebastian as particularly odd. He understands that Kurt wants his nights to himself, though it's not something that Sebastian himself sees much sense in. He's always preferred the rush of nighttime, the feel of a heavy dark sky and a moon that never ceases to make the stars seem brighter.

If it were up to him, he'd have Kurt all night long.

But Kurt has made it very clear, and on multiple occasions, that he does not agree.

It doesn't matter of course, not really. Sebastian still has Kurt, although not in the sense of a _relationship_. Outwardly, they are nothing more than friends—study buddies who spend a little too much time in the library during study hall.

The sex is great, and though it sucks that Sebastian can't tell the whole world about it, it's good enough that everyone just assumes he's getting it and that they keep it a secret.

Good enough.

_Good enough._

Xxx

_The house is cold._

_Old and creaking, like every step Kurt takes is a painful gash across rotting wood. As if it knows that he does not belong; is trying to warn the outside world that there is a stranger slipping its halls through like poisoned gas._

_Blood drips from his fingers, slow and hot and not his own, never his own._

_None of this is his._

_He stops in the living room, as if unable to move._

_A drop of crimson hits the floor, and he hears it, __**feels**__ it, like he would have felt his heart had it still been beating._

_There is a picture sitting on the coffee table, knocked over and discarded. A young girl smiles up at the photographer, her eyes light and young and __**alive**__. She was alive, once._

_Kurt feels a foreign prick at the back of his eyes._

_Hands shaking, he reaches up to wipe at them, completely uncaring of the red that trails from the pads of his fingers like paint from a brush. _

"_Tears," he whispers, even though anyone would have heard him is dead, their body lying limp and lifeless across their mattress. "I'm crying."_

_It's so ridiculous that he almost starts to laugh, but then he remembers green eyes and a sideways smile, and the laugh turns into a sob._

_For the first time in nearly fifty years, Kurt Elizabeth Hummel feels guilty for the blood all over his hands._

_For the life that he's stolen so carelessly._

_And all because of a __**boy**__._

_All because of Sebastian._


	2. Chapter 1

**AN**: Ahh, the sweet, sweet sensation of adding another chapter. This one is probably a little too short but, hmm...

**Warnings**: Blood, Smut

* * *

**Chapter One**

"Have you heard about the murder?"

Sebastian looks up right as Blaine Anderson slams his tray down on the table, wild-eyed and twitchy. His tie is a little too loose around the collar, giving Sebastian the impression that his fellow Warbler has been running around all morning.

"Have you _heard_," Blaine repeats, taking a nervous bite out of his sandwich as he plays with the edge of his napkin.

Rolling his eyes, Sebastian closes his Chemistry textbook and decides to play along. "Yeah, I have. Some poor, lonely widow found, covered in blood, lying across her bed. Tragic, but it happens."

Narrowing his eyes, Blaine looks every bit a kicked puppy. "But don't you think it's odd? I mean, this_ is _Ohio, and they haven't even found the killer! Apparently, the cops have no lead at all—"

"Blaine, sweetie, I think it's time the teacher's take your newspapers away." Kurt comes strolling in with his usual bottle of water and nothing else; taking the seat beside Blaine with a smile that just screams _pity_. "Small-town Ohio is so…_dull_," he continues, eyes flicking to Sebastian. "Things like this happened back in New York all the time. To the point where they stopped putting half of it in the newspapers."

The blush that spreads across Blaine's cheeks would be pretty if Sebastian wasn't so focused on Kurt. "Not everyone can come from such a big city," he mumbles, smiling that nervous, school boy smile that once made Sebastian want to break him.

Kurt just smiles, his whole face scrunching up adorably (and god, Sebastian wants to smack himself for thinking that), as he turns to face Sebastian. "Anyway, ignoring such dreadful news, can we please talk about Wes' song choices for Sectionals? _Talk _about tragic…"

It's easy like this, just the three of them. Even if Blaine isn't Sebastian's favorite person and he's sure the feeling is mutual, it's easy to focus solely on Kurt—on the way his eyes light up when he laughs and the way he uses his hands to talk when he's excited.

He's handsome in a way that Sebastian never thought he'd like, and yet Sebastian can't get over how hard it is to keep his hands to himself when the other boy is around.

He blames it on being eighteen and horny.

It's easier that way.

-3-

Like always, they end up in an empty classroom during last period study hall.

Kurt drags Sebastian in by his tie, eyes alight with mischief and something a little darker that turns Sebastian's legs to mush.

"I've waited all day for you," he finds himself whispering as Kurt makes quick work of his blazer and undershirt. "I was literally thirty seconds away from attacking you at lunch today."

(He never means to say these things around Kurt, they just sort of come out before he can stop them. This could get him into some trouble, he knows, but he's in too deep to worry about it now.)

Kurt just hums, grinning possessively as he curls his fingers around the back of Sebastian's neck and pulls him in for a hard, dirty kiss. "God, you're so_ hot_."

Those words shoot straight to Sebastian's cock.

Not for the first time, he wishes they weren't keeping this a secret. He wishes he could pin Kurt to the wall and suck a harsh, angry red mark against his skin so that the whole world would know _just_ who he belonged to.

"Gonna make you feel so good," Kurt pants, breaking Sebastian out of his daze.

Kurt drops to his knees, and even though the sight isn't entirely unfamiliar, it still never ceases to make Sebastian's head spin.

He groans when Kurt pulls down his pants, head falling back against the board as his hands scrabble for purchase against the edge of the chalk tray. Kurt's eyes follow his every move, even as he un-tucks Sebastian's cock from his boxers and starts to stroke him in earnest.

Sebastian's eyes flutter shut as Kurt works him, careful and sweet in a way that is entirely too dirty for someone who looks so god damn_ innocent_.

"_Fuck_, Hummel, you sure know how to drive a man crazy."

He wishes it wasn't true. He wishes Kurt was just another one-night stand, washed up and useless as soon as he woke up the next morning. He wishes he didn't _feel_ something when they were together, foreign and messy and too unfamiliar to give it a name.

These thoughts are stopped by the heat of Kurt's mouth.

The sound that tears out of Sebastian's mouth is damn near a scream. Clapping a hand over his mouth, he resists the urge to glare down at Kurt's pleased smile, letting his eyes fall shut again when he's completely enveloped by Kurt's mouth and right hand.

Though Sebastian likes to think he's _best_ in the area of oral sex, he really does have to give Kurt credit. A _lot_ of it.

He knows _exactly_ what to do with his mouth—where to put his tongue and when to _suck_. It's so good that Sebastian almost always ends up forgetting where and who he is, drowning in a pool of pleasure so deep that he's sure he'll never find his way out of it.

When Kurt swallows around him, Sebastian has to use the hand on the chalkboard to keep himself standing. His knees shake. His throat clogs with a shout.

When he comes, he's not at all surprised by how easily Kurt takes it, swallowing every last drop.

He lets his hand drop to bury itself in Kurt's hair, not at all caring anymore about how loud he's being. Kurt's name falls from his tongue, followed by a long trail of expletives that doesn't stop until Kurt is pulling away, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before pressing a kiss to Sebastian's thigh.

He tugs Sebastian's trousers back up to his waist, hooking the button but leaving the zipper for Sebastian.

"Fun?" Kurt asks, voice tipping towards teasing as he tugs at Sebastian's sleeves.

"Mmf, kiss me," he mumbles, reaching out to cup Kurt's chin.

"Even though you just came in my mouth? _Kinky_."

Sebastian just chuckles, pulling Kurt in for a kiss so soft that it makes him feel like he's floating across a bed of feathers.

He tries to make a move for the zipper of Kurt's pants, but the other boy stops him before he can make any sort of progress.

"Heh, sorry," he sighs, dropping his head to Sebastian's shoulder and dropping a kiss there. "I have to go, or else I would—"

"Babe, if you're trying to play hard to get…"

"No, no, it's just…my mom's been on my case lately, so she's making me go to her place after school. Which ends soon so…" He bites his lip as he trails off, straightening up to give Sebastian a look that's practically _begging_ him to forgive. "We can finish this tomorrow, if you'd like."

His voice drops, proof that he knows how to do _sexy_ better than anything else.

"I guess…"

"Good," Kurt chirps, pecking him on the mouth before pushing back.

Sebastian wishes he didn't miss the contact.

"Tomorrow, then."

"…tomorrow, then."

-3-

Kurt drops his bag on his desk with a sigh, flopping back on the Academy's cheap mattress and curling his fists into the blankets.

He should leave.

Right now, right this very moment, before people start to suspect the sweet, innocent new kid from New York City.

But there's Sebastian…

"You're an idiot, you know."

He doesn't jump, doesn't gasp—is entirely unsurprised by the other person suddenly sitting on his bed.

He doesn't even bother to open his eyes.

"I thought you were done following me," he grumbles.

"You're my baby, remember? I can never stop following _you_."

The hand in his hair is unwanted, but none the less soothing.

"You don't want to leave, do you?"

When Kurt opens his eyes, it's to the sweet face of one Quinn Fabray. She's smiling down at him with the same blood-stained lips that he knows so well from his own reflection.

"You just fed," he states.

Rolling her eyes, she flops down beside him and wipes sloppily at her lips. She eyes the blood on the back of her hand uninterestedly. "Not _around_ here, if that's what you're afraid of. Just because I made you doesn't mean I'm ready to _frame_ you. Now, tell me why you don't want to leave."

He bites his tongue.

"_Kurt_."

"Quinn."

She leans up on her elbows, glaring at him with red eyes. "It's not safe for us to stay in one spot for too long, so you better damn well have a good explanation for why you're still here."

Seeing her like this is always the worst part. Back when he was still human, her anger was tame, but it's a beast of its own now that she doesn't have to worry about containing it.

"It's a boy."

She stares at him in disbelief for a few seconds before groaning in defeat and burying her head in her arms. "_Kurt_…"

He plays almost nervously with his tie. "He's…different."

She may not be looking at him, but he can feel the glare. "So are _you_, asshole. Being a vampire means you lose the right to lust over high school _humans_, Kurt."

"It's not like a chose this life," he snaps. "You're the one who gave it to me, remember? And for your information? I'm still gay, I'm still _horny_, and I still have a _heart_!" He shoots out of his bed before she can grab him, a feral growl building in his throat before he can help it.

"Oh, sweetheart," she drawls, sitting up slowly and stretching out her legs like a cat, lazy yawn and all.

Sometimes he forgets that she's not human anymore—that she's not almost a hundred years old, that she hasn't killed enough people to make a lion look tame.

There's still blood under her fingernails; he can smell it.

"You're such a silly little kitten. Always playing games, even when there's business to attend to."

In the blink of an eye, she has him pinned to the wall, fingernails leaving dents in the wallpaper.

He wants to fight back, but there's a lot of power lost when standing before the one who made you.

Suddenly, the entire room smells like blood. His vision goes red.

Quinn swipes her tongue past her lips.

Once upon a time, she had been pretty, but time and blood lust have left her nothing short of cruel and beautiful. Pale, _pale_ skin and carnation-petal lips that are almost always set off by a pair of sharply pointed fangs. Blonde hair that she stopped trying to tame years ago, long and wild and tangled.

The thing that made him.

The thing that ruined him.

"Staying here is dangerous," she purrs, trailing a finger down his cheek. "Do you understand, Kurt? If they catch you—"

"Then I die, but you don't, so I don't really see—"

"I do love you, you know," she interrupts, moving to bump their noses. "You're like the baby bird I saved from falling out of the nest. Treasured, cherished, _mine_."

When she bites into his neck, the pain is dulled by how used to it he is.

If he could fight, he would, but she's got him trapped so tight in her embrace that even the thought seems impossible.

His body slumps against the wall.

He was going to leave.

After he killed that girl, he was _going_ to, he swears.

But then Sebastian, and now _this_—somebody to defy, a rule to break.

Well, he'll be damned if he's not staying at least a few more weeks.


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

When Sebastian next sees Kurt, it's hard to understand the feeling that overcomes him.

They still haven't talked since last night, when Kurt ran off with the excuse to visit his mother, and even though Sebastian was the one who got off, he isn't at all satisfied with how they left things.

Still, Kurt strolls into the lunch that day like all is normal, taking his usual seat next to Blaine and glancing quickly at Sebastian before turning to entertain Blaine's idea for song selection. "Top 40's, definitely."

Sebastian barely even picks at his food, smiling and nodding along with whatever Jeff is talking about next to him while he sneaks glances at Kurt and Blaine across from him. The two are always so _close_, heads pressed together like everything they talk about is a secret meant for only them to hear.

Though Kurt never said anything about the nature of what they had, Sebastian always just kind of figured they were it for each other, at least until they got bored and moved on (which is an unpleasant thought, but Sebastian knows how to shake things off).

Could Kurt be interested in Blaine, and as more than just a fuck buddy?

Something a lot like anger and a little like sadness coils tight in his stomach, making his fingers shake as he curls it around his fork to hide the tremors.

"Dude, you okay?" Jeff asks, talking around a mouthful of salad.

"Better than you," Sebastian grumbles.

Jeff laughs it off, like he always does when Sebastian makes a joke that he either doesn't understand or doesn't know how to take to heart. "Yeah, whatever man. I was just trying to be polite." He then turns to talk to David, for which Sebastian is thankful.

Until Blaine reaches up to sweep the hair out of Kurt's eyes.

By that point, Sebastian's standing up and heading with his tray towards the garbage can, wondering when in the hell _jealousy _came with the memo.

-3-

"You left without saying goodbye."

Sebastian isn't entirely surprised when Kurt finds him. He'd be lying if he said that's not half the reason he left, with the hopes that Kurt would follow.

He's sitting on a bench outside on the courtyard the Academy uses for lunch during warmer weather, shivering as the winter chill rolls across his spine, when Kurt finds him.

The other boy seems perfectly content with nothing but the outfit he has on, even smiling a bit at the sky as he steps out into the fresh air.

"Had to," Sebastian mumbles, rubbing his hands together for warmth. "You and Anderson were starting to make me nauseous." He tries to keep it light-hearted and maybe even a little playful, but it just comes out as bitter and spiteful.

The look on Kurt's face is hard to read, but he covers it up quickly with a smile, exuding confidence like Sebastian usually does.

They're a dangerous mix, in that way.

Plopping down beside him on the bench, Kurt just watches him while he focuses pointedly on a random spot in the distance.

"You're ridiculous, you know," he muses, crossing his leg and leaning with his elbow on the table. He's so close that Sebastian can feel the warm gust of his breaths as his lungs expand and contract.

Sebastian just snorts.

"You're out here in the freezing cold, hating yourself—"

"I don't—"

"All because I was talking to another boy. _Blaine Anderson_, mind you. And here I didn't have you pinned for the jealous type."

Sebastian curls his hands tight around the edge of the bench, until his knuckles are white from the pressure. Sebastian Smythe being jealous—_ha_.

"Good joke, Hummel."

Without so much as a warning, Kurt is leaning so close that his nose brushes Sebastian's cheek when he turns to look at him.

In this lighting, Kurt looks a set of wings away from being angelic. His eyelashes cast long, sweeping shadows over the soft point of his cheekbones, a splash of gray across the rosy warmth that his body creates in response to the cold. His skin is snow-pale, nearly translucent with the way the sun hits him. He's so pale, in fact, that his lips seem the color of blood, and that thought sends a shiver down Sebastian's spine.

"You're ridiculous," Kurt repeats, reaching out to cup Sebastian's jaw.

Too entranced to look away, Sebastian throws it all to hell and lets himself down in those eyes, in the blue-grey-green shift that reminds him so much of the ocean he swears he can hear the waves lapping the shore.

"But not jealous."

And when they kiss, Sebastian lets it all go.

Lets pesky, sweet-but-maybe-too-sweet Blaine Anderson escape his mind because Kurt is his, even if only for a little while. Even if they only own each other over rumpled clothing and snaking tongues and chalk dust.

"Let me show you," Kurt whispers, hands moving and fingers curling tight around the fabric of Sebastian's blazer. "Let me show you just how_ unimportant_ Blaine is."

There's almost something _desperate_ about him—as he kisses across Sebastian's jaw and snakes his arm around Sebastian's neck, pulling him so close that no breath of his is one unshared by Kurt. He is already falling apart—lips bruised from the force of their kiss and eyes half-lidded.

A thrill races down Sebastian's spine, curling his toes and heating his flesh.

"Your room," Kurt whispers, knocking their foreheads. "Take me to your room."

Sebastian barely has time to register the shock of the request before his body is taking over and he's surging forward for another kiss, sucking the breath straight from Kurt's lungs.

They've never been in a bed, at least not one of their _own_. (There was that time in Jeff's room when he thought leaving them alone while he called his mom was a good idea, but it was really just a way to get back at the other Warbler for cutting Kurt's solo in their Flo Rida number.)

"Kurt, are you—"

Kurt pulls back to look him in the eye, and Sebastian thinks wildly that the image deserves to be preserved on canvas.

But, then again, paint strokes could never do the swirl of Kurt's eyes any justice.

"I want _you_, Sebastian." He smiles after he says it, like he's come to some sort of realization that lies beyond whatever Sebastian knows about him.

Tipping forward for one last kiss, Sebastian starts to stand up, twining their fingers together and tugging with the same sort of childlike excitement that a little boy has when first taking his crush's hand. It is a spark, a low simmering under his skin.

It is electric and dangerous, and if things were different—if he weren't already so head-over-heels—he would run and never look back.

-3-

Sebastian's room starts off clean but ends up absolutely destroyed.

He has Kurt pinned to the door the moment they're inside, knocking down the hoodies he had hanging there. They end up fighting for dominance on top of Sebastian's desk, tossing aside books and papers and weeks of research for that English assignment he was supposed to turn in today. His lamp is carelessly tipped over as they stumble towards his bed, tearing at buttons and ties and red-and-blue fabric.

When they're finally naked, Sebastian has Kurt sprawled out beneath him, and he finds it necessary to take things a little slower than usual. He kisses across every available inch of skin his mouth can reach, sucking usually-forbidden marks against that smooth, porcelain skin.

If he was more perceptive or used to such romantic gestures, he would settle his cheek against Kurt's chest in search of a heartbeat, and he would scream when he found none.

But his head is swimming with lust and his ears are flooded with the sound of his and Kurt's uneven breaths. Kurt has a funny way of making sure nothing bad happens, anyway—always tugging Sebastian up for a kiss when he gets to close or forcing his body to imitate a pulse whenever the other boy decides to place a kiss against the inner curve of his wrist.

He's been alive for nearly fifty years; he knows the tricks.

They watch each other while Sebastian maps out the contours of his body, blue eyes meeting green and bodies rocking with tremors. Kurt can taste Sebastian on his tongue—can smell the hard-to-ignore sweetness of the blood that pumps through his veins.

With anyone else, he wouldn't be nearly as patient.

Sebastian has always been a little different, though, so he doesn't think to question it.

"Kurt, can I—"

Kurt shuts him up with a kiss, because _of course, yes, I'm all yours_.

It shouldn't even be a question anymore, how undeniably Kurt belongs to the man hovering above him.

It is slow and sweet, different than anything Kurt has ever experienced. Their legs are intertwined as Sebastian pins his hands above him, twisting their fingers together as he owns Kurt completely with every thrust of his hips.

They breathe the same breaths, mouths locked almost the entire time.

And when Kurt comes, he screams Sebastian's name like a prayer or a plea or something equally as hopeful. His entire body curls around the warmth of Sebastian, desperate to attach itself to the way of _living_ that Kurt has been missing out on for years, now.

He kisses Sebastian hard on the mouth, slamming his eyes shut to hide the sudden tears that sprang up for absolutely no reason. He meets every single last one of Sebastian's thrusts, breaking free of his possessive grip to curl his fingers through his lover's hair.

"Come for me," he whispers, fighting back the tremors that threaten to break him completely.

And Sebastian does, with a curse and a call of Kurt's name.

Kurt watches him—watches the display like it's a firework show. His entire body is aware of the way Sebastian's toes dig into the mattress, and he shivers when Sebastian comes inside of him.

Every flex of Sebastian's body is a trigger, reminding Kurt that they are indeed entirely different, and that there's no way this can work without hurting the fragile, innocent human above him.

But when Sebastian opens his eyes, the light Kurt finds obliterates any logical thought, and it's all he can do not to drown in those endless depths.

"Stay the night," Sebastian says lazily, kissing across Kurt's jaw. He says it like he doesn't know he is—like it's something he wouldn't have the guts to say if he weren't so drained.

Kurt cups his cheek, tracing his thumb across the gentle slope of Sebastian's nose.

"Of course."

-3-

_Outside, Quinn stares blankly down at the blood on her fingers._

_She casts the Academy one last glance before bringing them up to her lips and licking eagerly at the sticky sweet substance._

_The light in Sebastian's room flickers out, a shuttering eye in the darkness. Her stomach twists with uncertainty and a little fear._

"_Oh, darling," she whispers to herself, un-beating heart seeming to lurch in her chest as she imagines the image Kurt would make, sex-worn and sleepy as he curled himself tight around a warm body. _

_She remembers how it felt, to fall head-first and without looking back._

_Only to have her heart crushed, beating or otherwise._

"_He has to realize…" She takes a step back, closing her eyes at the nearly-human sound of her boots scraping across gravel. "That he's not safe here."_

_When she opens her eyes again, they are the color of blood._

_If Quinn Fabray is anything, it sure as hell isn't patient._

_Her worry for Kurt is not simple; it is festering and bleeding and consuming. Kurt is __**hers**__, and she'll be damned if she'll sit around and let him get hurt like she once swore she never would._

"_Don't worry, darling, I'll save you."_


	4. Chapter 3

_**AN: **warnings for blood  
_

* * *

__Chapter Three

_When Quinn Fabray first spotted Kurt Hummel walking the hallways of McKinley High, he was a young, quiet little thing. Particularly shy and wary of the jocks with their bulging letterman jackets and matching buzz cuts._

_At first, she had laughed at him—called him weak and pathetic in front of her friends._

_But it was all a game, and hardly the truth._

_Because the truth that she was more than sixty years their senior, and that every move she made was part of a game._

_Until Kurt, that is._

_She felt bad for him. So bad that it made her feel physically sick to her stomach. Not sick like when Noah Puckerman tried to touch her breasts or sick like when Finn sneezed on her "on accident", but sick as in physically __**weak**__. Sawing him __**drained**__ her—reminded her too vividly of the past that she had so long ago left behind._

_The poor boy's only friend was one energetic Rachel Berry, and she was an entire story all to herself._

_Altogether, taking a detour to McKinley High had been both the best and worst decision of Lucy Quinn Fabray's entire life._

_Their first conversation was short and clipped, like he was too afraid of her to say anything more than a few syllables._

"_You could be something great you know," she told him, putting on her usual cheerleader charm as she walked up to his locker and watched him pull helplessly at the bag that was in his locker. "A real charmer. A real __**killer**__."_

_His eyes widened to the size of small plates when he looked at her, and it would have been funny if he didn't make her feel so damned __**sick**__. "__**What**__?"_

"_If you didn't make yourself so small, I mean. You can't walk around like you don't mean anything, Kurt. People will walk all over you if you do that."_

_He finally managed to pull his bag out, stumbling a bit but quickly regaining his balance, though with a pretty shade of pink staining his cheeks._

_It was hard for her not to lick her lips in anticipation, because she suddenly knew very well what she planned to do with this cheap, pathetic scrap of what would otherwise pose huge potential._

"_I'll talk to you later, Kurt," she said quickly, noticing both the approach of that Berry girl and the pack of jocks that followed her around the corner._

_Though she somehow felt attached to Kurt, she couldn't risk being caught with him._

_It would ruin the feeding schedule._

-3-

"You're not even surprising anymore," Kurt drawls, stepping out of the shower with nothing but a towel around his waist and instantly locking onto Quinn where she's perched on his bed.

She's sitting Indian-style, fingers tapping across her knee as she watches him with her head cocked to the side. Her eyes are dark, the irises stained red. The entire room reeks with the scent of blood.

He swallows hard, hands curling into fists at his side.

But before he can say anything, she cuts him off. "You know what we are, _right_, Kurt? A _mutation_. Our heart doesn't beat, but our bodies are still alive, somehow making blood even without an organ to pump it through our veins…" As if in awe, she holds her hands out in front of her face and wiggles her fingers.

"We can't help what we are, Kurt. Blame me, blame nature, but you're still a_ vampire_ and you still have to take responsibility for yourself." Her voice turns bitter, though she doesn't look at him as she spits out her next statement. "You need to _leave_, Kurt, before that pretty little toy of yours finds out and runs away screaming so loud that he brings back an army."

Three thoughts run through Kurt's head at the same time, all while Quinn watches him anxiously from the bed, poised to pounce if his response isn't what she's expecting.

First—Quinn is a bitch. "_A cold-blooded reptile_," he vaguely remembers a now-dead Noah Puckerman saying so many years ago, when she refused to sleep with him. Kurt whole heartedly agrees with that statement, though not necessarily for the same reasons.

Second—He's starving. He was on such a thorough diet before that it's hard to go even a day without sustenance. But he won't. He can't.

Third—The idea of _Sebastian Smythe running away screaming_ is entirely too comical.

When he snorts, unable to fight back the sound, Quinn leaps.

A younger, more naïve part of him knows exactly what he's done wrong. To scoff at the one who created you is a mistake. This is a game, and you are owned wholly and completely by their presence.

But the older, independent part of him is more than willing to defy Quinn in every way possible, until she finally breaks and leaves him alone for good.

She pins him to the wall by his throat. It doesn't hurt, because she would _never_, but the pressure is enough to keep him there.

Her eyes are wild when they meet his, and the thrill of fear that shoots through Kurt's bloodstream is both dizzying and sickening.

"You're so fucking _ignorant_!" she snaps. "You act like you know everything, but you are still just a _boy_!"

"Quinn—"

"You'll die, Kurt, or do you not _understand_? A stake through the heart, an axe to the head, a room set on fire. You were human once, what would you have done if you found out the man fucking your brains out every night was a _vampire_?"

Her eyes turn sad, and he knows instantly what she's thinking of.

The perfect example for why he shouldn't still be here, falling further and further into a boy infamous for one night-stands and heartache.

Fifty years ago. McKinley High School.

Quinn found more than Kurt, that year.

Her grip loosens around his throat, and even though he doesn't need it, he sucks in a sharp pool of air.

"I think about her sometimes, you know," she whispers, eyes dropping to his chest. "About the way she used to smile at me. About the way she used to say my name, like she was so happy to see me…"

For a split second, Quinn could almost be human.

A screwed up, broken shell of a person, but a human none the less.

She looks back up at him, sea foam green bleeding through the red of her gaze. "You remember it too, don't you? The way she screamed when she found out what I was? I think the whole school heard it…" She shakes her head, and he almost feels bad for her. If his heart was still beating, it would lurch in his chest.

Of course he remembers.

The scream of one of the only real friends Kurt Hummel ever had. The scream of a girl who was losing her mind, falling apart helplessly as the girl she thought she loved revealed her true colors.

_Red, red, red, it was all red, Kurt. Blood, blood, I swear to god I'm not lying. I'm not going crazy Kurt I swear I swear I swear—_

He closes his eyes; blocks it out. "It wasn't your fault—"

"And he won't be yours," she whispers, dropping her hand from his throat completely and tracing her pointer finger down the planes of his chest. "You think you know a person, Kurt, but fear changes the brave ones.

"You think Sebastian won't run away screaming. You think he won't tell the whole world. You think people won't call him crazy. You think people won't lock him up in some mental institution for the rest of their lives…but they will. They will, Kurt, only _this_ time? People are going to believe him, and they are going to _kill_ you."

Her expression is earnest, but soft, when she looks back up at him. She drops her hands down to his towel, twisting her fingers through the material anxiously.

It's in this moment that Kurt knows it's not just a game to her. Not just a claim of master over slave.

She actually _cares_ about him.

He doesn't know what to say, what to think.

He feels oddly as if he's falling to pieces, crumbling to useless chunks of porcelain. Nothing but ashes. Soft remembrances of a person who died fifty years ago.

A ghost.

He straightens quickly, suddenly wanting nothing more than to stop thinking.

He tilts his neck until his head is against the wall, wet hair leaving faint watermarks across the wallpaper. "Bite me," he whispers, sounding just as defeated as he is. "Make it hurt, Qunnie. Make me forget." He almost smiles at the old nickname, using it more out of old habit than nostalgia.

She doesn't look to him for permission, doesn't ask if he's sure.

She just dives right in, canines tearing through weak flesh.

He claps a hand over his mouth to dampen the sound of his screams.

-3-

_Quinn finds Kurt sitting by himself in the boy's locker room, Finn Hudson's jersey clamped tight between his hands as his nose gushes blood without any hint of stopping soon._

_Ignoring the tang of blood that hits her nose, she grabs a clean towel off of the shelf holding deflated basketballs and takes it too him with a sigh loud enough to announce her presence._

"_Real jerks, huh?"_

_Kurt doesn't even jump in surprise. He just flinches in fear._

_She feels her unbeating heart soften. "Only here to help, Little Bird."_

_She hands him the towel, smiling that sweet, innocent smile that she still remembers from her day as a good Christian girl who followed obviously in her father's footsteps. He takes it quickly, if not with a bit of mistrust in his eyes, and presses it to his nose._

"_Why Little Bird?" he asks, tugging at the material caught between his fingers._

_Frowning, she reaches for it, tugging it out of his grip easily. No need for him to beat himself up over yet another inevitability. Another person who will only ever hate him for who he chooses to be when he wakes up in the morning._

"_You remind me of a bird that fell out of its nest."_

_He looks down, muscles shifting as he presses the towel even harder against his face. But he doesn't say anything, just stares down at the way his free fingers flex against his thigh._

_Folding her red-and-white Cheerio's skirt beneath her, she slides down the bench until she's right beside him. She swats his hands away from the towel and takes his place, smiling kindly when he looks at her in surprise. _

"_Don't worry, Kurt. I'm not like the rest of them. I'll take care of you."_

-3-

When Quinn finally leaves, Kurt falls to his knees on the floor, naked and covered in his own blood.

His eyes droop tiredly as he reaches up to scratch uselessly at his own arms, like maybe it will somehow help him burst from the skin of the monster he's become.

(It doesn't.)

He has to leave. That truly is the only option left.

He thinks of poor, sweet, now-old Rachel Berry, bent over in a hospital chair beside a window, dreaming of the day when somebody finally decides to believe her. Momentarily, he wonders if Finn Hudson still visits her, or if he gave up when she kept babbling on and on about monsters that supposedly didn't exist, even when they were flesh and blood, every day citizens.

He lets out a sob that only intensifies when wiping his eyes spreads crimson over and under his eyes.

Curling over himself, he wraps his arms tight around his middle and lets out a quiet whimper.

It's been a long time since he's let the pain settle in.

Like creeping thorns, like some sort of disease. It completely consumes him, _becoming_ him.

So much so that he doesn't even register the knock on his door or the sound of it opening.

He doesn't even notice until he hears the soft gasp and looks up to find Sebastian standing in his doorway, jaw slack and eyes wild with fear.


End file.
